Perception is Everything
by Scavenge-4-Dreams
Summary: Part eight of 'Insomniac Dreaming' Same words, different feeling. Slash. See note enclosed.
1. All Loved Up-Out In The Cold

**Note -** This is a self-challenge. Write 100 words of dialogue. Duplicate. Write two completely separate stories using the same dialogue. Enjoy.

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**1A – All Loved Up**

"Nhg!" The sharp yelp escaped Steve's lips as he was rudely catapulted from peaceful sleep into sudden wakefulness. The culprit disturbing his calm rest was a relatively soft, fairly small and undeniably _freezing _foot_,_ trying to burrow its way into the warm crevice beneath his left knee.

The Captains sleep roughened voice was laced with slight irritation as he quietly scolded his bed-mate, hissing "_Tony!_", as he jerked his leg away from the cold interloper.

Tony, completely oblivious to his lover's terrible plight, simply snuffled in his sleep and turned slightly beneath Steve's arm, as he snuggled closer. The annoyance sparking in blue eyes immediately melted away, replaced with resigned affection and Steve relaxed back into the soft mattress, sleep already trying to claw him under again.

He wasn't quite fully immersed in the beckoning dream world when he felt the re-approaching threat. It hadn't even touched his skin, yet Steve could feel the warmth around his own foot fading with its encroaching proximity.

Once again awake, the blond grumbled an exasperated sigh of "-_Tony…_", as he moved his lower legs away.

Able to see a pattern forming, Steve took pre-emptive action. An arm eased beneath Tony's shoulders allowed him to easily lift his lover's sleeping weight from the bed, and with the other, he dragged some of the much bunched and tangled quilt free from beneath them.

Cradling Tony's head close against his chest again, and smiling at the complete lack of reaction, Steve busied himself tucking the freed blanket down between his and Tony's lower bodies, separating the frozen toes from his own warm feet.

Mission accomplished, he settled back into his accustomed position, one arm thrown over Tony's waist, his fingers brushing across the cool casing of the arc reactor before being curled around Tony's side and tucked up beneath his shoulder. Warm, and comfortably ensconced in the blanket pulled snug over both their bodies, Steve was once again asleep within minutes.

Five small pads of ice against his lower calf and Steve once again jerked into wakefulness with a snarled, "God! _Tony, please!_" yanking his legs away from the thoroughly chilled toes that had somehow managed to bypass the blanket barrier.

Half sitting up, huffing a warm, steamy breath in the _semi-heated_ air of the hotel room, Steve sighed. He was tired, Tony was exhausted – they'd been awake a ridiculous number of hours, battling a ridiculous four headed quasi-centipede in absolutely ridiculous French weather, and were now ridiculously tired.

They'd all just wanted to go home, have a warm meal, wind down with a movie and get some sleep. Instead, they had to stay to receive some award from the French Ambassador tomorrow morning. Despite wanting to go home, the hotel they'd been put up in was lovely. The food good, the bed decent and the company perfect. Except for his freezing feet.

Steve gave in.

Knowing that if he was going to get _any_ sleep at all, he'd need to go straight to the source, he gently shook his somehow still sleeping lover, as he said quietly, "Tony. Tony, wake up. You have to wak-"

To the unlearned eye Tony simply slept on, but Steve, who was well on his way to receiving honours in his 'Handling Tony' lifestyle class, fell silent as he noticed the first sign in Tony's 'unhurried' awakening routine.

Tony's nose wrinkled. More of a twitch than a scrunch, and lasting only for seconds. There it was – indication one. Just a small, involuntary quirk as the genius's sleeping mind registered Steve's voice.

His lover's face stilled again, but Steve waited patiently, – there was a 70% chance that Tony would need prompting again, and a further 30% chance that a third time would be necessary.

Not this time.

Step two: soft lips parting, an audibly deep breath drawn in to oxygenate the sluggish brain. Steve supposed sluggish was technically correct, however, he'd seen race cars more sluggish than Tony's brain. Admittedly, when the genius became what Steve called simply his _tony_ as opposed to Tony or Tony Stark, all that brilliance seemed to translate directly into adorableness, by-passing prickly sarcasm and scathing wit.

And immediately – Step three. The release of the breath, lips smacking slightly against a snuffling sigh.

Somedays step four was a soft lopsided smile. Other days, if Steve reacted fast enough, a tongue would dart out to chase the taste of Steve's retreating lips.

Mostly though, as it was today, step four was Tony's silent steadfast denial of his awakened status - determinedly closed eyes, accompanied by a deliciously pouted lower lip.

A sappily soft grin broke across Steve's face, because, try as he might- and sometimes he _did_ try, _truly_- he was unable to see Tony's reticence as anything other than adorable.

Leaning down, Steve ran his tongue over the pouted lips, catching the lower between his teeth and nipped gently, voice just that _tiny bit smug,_ as he whispered, "Tony? Open your eyes, Tony. Come on, I know you're awake. Love-"

Tony's eyebrows creased, one hand coming up to splay against Steve's warm chest, anchoring him as he considered.

_Dark._

_Bed._

_Steve._

Nope - he was definitely asleep.

He said as such, "'mff…nope. Not 'wake", as if it's mere utterance would make it true.

Although…something unpleasant was going on in the vicinity of his feet, and to a lesser extent, his everywhere else, and…_damn._

"-_cold…_", he added, his voice raw with misery, one eye cracking open to reveal a sliver of betrayed brown…because, _sleep_ and _cold - _and for that matter_ Steve _and _cold_ - did not go together.

Steve shook his head at the utter wretchedness of his lover, as if Tony had been the one to suffer through repeated assaults of glacial toes running up his nicely warmed legs. The super soldier conceded Tony's point though, replying, "I know. _Believe_ _me_…I know." his voice heavy with unusual sarcasm.

The fact that Tony didn't even register Steve's irritation made the genius's continued fatigue suddenly very apparent.

The Captain looked down into the guileless brown eyes, completely lacking any trace of their usual wickedness, and felt his lingering crossness waver. Tony's utterly forlorn murmuring of, "Hate the cold…" while looking up at Steve like he held all the answers, destroyed even the last remnants.

"I know that too. C'mere…" Steve said as he pulled the ruins of the blanket barrier from between them, lifting it clear and beckoning Tony closer.

Steve could see the goosebumps as they formed across Tony's newly exposed torso, and feel the slight shiver that vibrated through the bed below them – yet Tony didn't move closer.

Brown eyes slipped closed again, as weariness pulled at his shivering body. Not even exhaustion though, had a complete shutting down effect on the genius's astonishing mind-and despite his lack of actual processed though, Tony's quietly muttered rumblings filled the room with somewhat garbled, if justifiably indignant complaints," 'Stupid winter. St'pd Snow…St-…'tupd ice. Turn it off., Steve. 'm C'ld."

It simply wasn't fair!

Steve had woken Tony with the specific point of admonishing the wandering_ icicl_…feet- and ensuring the lack of a repeat performance, and here he was all a-flutter because Tony was so adorably exhausted.

How was anyone- super soldier or not- supposed to withstand such an endearingly pitiful performance?

Not that Steve tried overly, in any case.

Despite the shivering, frosting breath and his obvious misery, Steve could see that Tony wasn't going to move under his own steam. Noting absently (and not for the first time), that his lover had the self-preservation of a lemming, Steve reached across the small expanse and wrapped a loose arm about Tony's waist, dragging his already chilled form slightly closer.

At the sudden movement, Tony's eyes snapped open, startled confusion clouding his vision, both his hands coming up defensively with a sluggish tenacity that Steve could appreciate, even while he worried at how unfocused Tony got when exhausted.

The fingers of his left hand threaded through Tony's right, and Steve drew them down as he murmured reassuringly, "Shh…I'm just going to get you warmed up. Promise."

Steve was beyond gratified, when upon hearing his voice, Tony immediately calmed. That level of trust had been a long time forming and hadn't come easily – especially not for Tony, who'd already been put through the emotional shredder more times than Steve liked to think about.

Tony's response was a lackadaisical "Hmm, 'kay.", and a hand waving gesture that somehow defied gravity to flutter about in the space between them for a moment before dropping like a rock.

Steve looked down, waiting for Tony to snuggle closer, or curl into Steve like he usually did, but Tony just stared up at him with slow blinking eyes. Steve smiled as he pressed a kiss to the shoulder resting against his chest.

It wasn't often that Tony gave ground in their relationship, the genius usually fought and defied him every step of the way. Steve loved the challenge, the excitement, but this pliant, relaxed and completely passive behaviour was so out of character that Steve couldn't help revel in the trust Tony was unconsciously showing.

Taking control, Steve pulled Tony towards him, one arm curling around his lovers trim waist and his hand settling against the taught backside, dragging him closer still, until the smaller form was flush the entire length of their bodies.

Grinning as Tony moaned appreciatively at the sudden placement of a convenient space heater, Steve moved his arm up to brush away the tangle of hair that had dropped down to half conceal tired brown eyes. Following his fingers with his lips, Steve asked, "Put your arms-"

Tony wiggled slightly against him, ostensibly to free the arm caught between them, but Steve, knowing what wickedness lay in his lovers mind, didn't mistaken his own reaction to the sinful roll of Tony's hips as anything other than the intended result.

He saved his retaliation for later, when he was sure Tony would enjoy it, instead pressing an approving kiss to upturned lips as Tony's arms tucked down into the small gap between them, one hand, a hot brand splayed against Steve's upturned ribs and the other fisting a pool of heat into Steve's stomach between them. He backed up his approval with words, whispering, "That's it… just"- the fisted hand gently relaxed- "Good."

Steve steeled himself to deal with the original issue, adding, "Tuck your feet under my leg…", determinately not cringing at the thought of the impending agony.

_Sometimes,_ Steve still didn't understand how people labelled Tony as selfish. Well, he sort of understood -Tony was great at broadcasting absolute rubbish, but it still made him so angry.

_Sometimes,_ like this time.

Tony blinked, eyes widening as he was suddenly _slightly _more alert, replying, "…' hate that-"

And it was true. He'd (tried) to force Tony into bed-socks one night, wrapped him like a burrito in the cover another, made him (them) take a midnight shower on a particularly bad night. Steve _detested _cold feet rubbing against his own perpetually warm ones, hated the sudden awakenings.

But he adored and loved Tony.

"I know. But I love you. …quite a lot- enough to make- shaa!" He hadn't even got the first five words out before ten toes were shoving, curling and pushing their way under his lower legs, sending jitters up and down his spine as the icy chill settled in.

Just the hot breaths and press of lips against his skin made it all worthwhile.

And that wasn't mentioning the obscene little moans and whimpers that Tony was breathing into his neck as cooled flesh was engulfed by heat, and especially not the wriggling and gentle rocking motion as the genius tried to get his feet even closer.

Tony seemed to agree wholeheartedly with him, his fingers clenching and relaxing against Steve's side as he breathed, "'s-good"

The feet were admittedly freezing against his legs, the room itself lacked the comforting familiarity of home, there was no JARVIS watching over them they were both beyond exhausted, and Steve had to question with a sceptical,"…Yeah?"

Tony's gentle head-butt was both an obvious reply and a rather effectual demand for a kiss.

And as he dipped low to comply, Steve took in the mostly asleep form of his lover. Tony was a pliable and yielding mass, curled into his body. Content for once to simply be loved and protected, lulled by a peaceful drowsiness into an adorable ball of complacency.

Revelling in the growing warmth that he tugged the blankets up and over, trapping within, Steve agreed, murmuring, "_Yeah. It is._"

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**1B – Out in The cold**

"Nhg!" The half muffled exclamation escaped through lips that scraped each other like rough sandpaper as he came to. His mouth as a whole felt like someone had stuffed it full of wet cotton wool, which had since dried and gone hard, crumbling to dust. He ran his hot, swollen tongue over sensitive teeth and parched gums, trying unsuccessfully to find some moisture.

Steve finally thought to open his eyes, and rolling over, he was near blinded by the whiteness.

Everything was white, include his closest surrounds, the t-shirt he was wearing and apparently – his memory.

A huge white fuzz of nothingness.

He blinked slowly as he forced himself to not move. To remember first.

And that's when he noticed the cold.

_Death, Freezing, Sleeping, Waking, Alive, Alone. _

And everything came flooding back.

"_Tony!_" It was a desperate shout as Steve bolted upright, his blue gaze piercing through the swirling snow.

They'd jumped. The plane had gone down and they'd jumped – no armour, no shield. Just Steve and Tony over a white wash of snow covered mountains.

They'd jumped.

He'd had Tony when they'd hit the side of the mountain. He could still feel the ghost of arms looped tightly around his neck, and Steve's had gathered Tony in close at the waist. Their legs tangled together in an inseparable clench, and Tony's hot, fast breathing a constant against his throat as they'd free-fallen.

He'd had Tony. He was as sure of that as he was his own name. The impact had sent them careening and tumbling downwards amidst an avalanche of rolling white death.

Steve stared down at his now empty arms.

_He'd let go._

Stumbling upwards, ignoring the steady pinpricks of ice shards stinging against his serum improved flesh as he sought a glimpse of black, or better yet – arc reactor blue.

Nothing, just a swirling wall of white with the grey silhouette of the mountains embossed beyond. It was overwhelming, a huge expanse of terrifying chasms and furrows, gorges, crevasses and fissures. Tony could be lost in any one of them, or beneath several tonne of frozen white death.

And _he _couldn't come back from an icy tomb.

Even if Tony wasn't buried, wasn't…

It was still a dauntingly impossible search, each second an inch closer to death and every step a possible landmine.

And there was only Steve to search. By the time anyone else got on site it would be too late for Tony.

Too late for Steve.

_"-Tony…_" his breath sticking in his throat, Steve half sobbed the word as he stepped in the direction they had fallen, having to _try._

Something in the corner of his eye grabbed his attention, sunk its teeth in and held on. Steve spun, something clawing at him – hope. He sought the tiny flicker of movement; an aborted flinch of one too cold to carry the motion through.

Dropping to his knees, Steve hardly dared believe was his eyes were telling him. Barely more than a foot away, swathed from head to toe in a fine dusting of white snow, his skin almost translucent where it rested on the white substance, was Tony.

Around him, in a perfect indent, was the flawless silhouette of a super-serum enhance body.

_He hadn't let go. _

Steve scrambled to Tony's side as he exclaimed, "God! – _Tony, please!_" reaching, unable to consider any possible alternative than finding a heartbeat thumping away beneath chalky white skin.

His fingers searched for a pulse point, hands pressing against the slender column of Tony's throat and wrapping around his left wrist at the same time, a second, two…

It was there, throbbing beneath his fingers at both sources. A little fast and skipping too many beats for Steve's liking, but there beneath his fingers.

Moving his body to block the worse draft of flying snow, brushing away the fine flakes already dusting Tony's too pale skin, Steve cradled his lover's face with large hands, speaking firmly, loudly, over the rushing wind, "Tony. Tony, wake up. You have to wak-"

Tony's nose wrinkled.

Steve felt himself relax just a little – Tony had heard him.

They didn't have time for Tony to wake slowly, clinging to his dark dream world, and Steve urged him, "Tony? Open your eyes, Tony. Come on, I know you're awake. Love-"

He fell silent as slivers of brown appeared, peering up at him through squinted eyes. Steve smiled in relief, running a hand through Tony's hair, taking in the gorgeous chocolate pools hazily following his every move.

_Hazily._

God, what if Tony was injured?

He thought about asking, started to –but then stopped. If Tony thought it was to Steve's benefit he wouldn't hesitate to lie. And it would be to Steve's benefit not being saddled with an injured partner during a blizzard.

A tiny voice at the back of his head added, that if Tony was so seriously injured that Steve's hands couldn't feel it or his eyes couldn't see it – there would be very little he could do anyway.

His hand frantically, yet with infinitely gentleness, delved into the tangled mess of Tony's hair, searching for a telling contusion or swelling. His eyes kept contact with Tony's own, knowing that even if his lover supressed a wince or a cry – his eyes would reveal everything.

His hand swept down still limbs, traced ribs and rested over his flat stomach, and through it all Tony simply watched him. There was no winces, no cries, no pained gasps or dropped eyes.

Steve started to hope that Tony was fine.

That somehow they'd just fallen several hundred feet into a raging blizzard, and Tony was fine.

And then he realised, Tony hadn't said a word. Hadn't argued, mocked, or pulled away – he'd simply watched.

A silent Tony, acquiescent to medical checks and hovering, was in no way or shape _fine._

Panic seized Steve, as 'brain injury' fluttered across his mind and he stilled, slumping back onto his heels. Fear chased every other emotion and he felt himself sway, his hands trembling where they rested on Tony's chest above the reactor.

Perhaps seeing Steve's imminent meltdown and forcing himself to react, or his brain finally firing on all cylinders despite the cloying cold, Tony suddenly rolled his eyes, huffed a disgusted breath and muttered with derision, arguing just on principal, "'mff…nope. Not 'wake.".

Telling Steve to stop being an ignoramus with nothing more than his eyes, Tony added a murmured, "-_Cold…_" as more an explaining demand than a statement.

Steve shook himself, cursing his own lack of common sense as he took in the snow settling over Tony's lower body, the soft track pants and sweatshirt providing very little protection. The freezing blue tint to most of his loves transparently waxen skin and complete lack of shivering was also telling.

He might be a super soldier, with well above average tolerance to cold, but Tony certainly wasn't.

"I know. _Believe_ _me_…I know.", Steve didn't know if he was agreeing with Tony's unspoken statement of his own apparent lack of sense or with Tony's assessment of being cold, but regardless, both were true.

Remedying the lack of sense accusation immediately, Steve easily lifted Tony into his lap, draping the smaller form of his lover across his body lengthways and flush against his chest, murmuring soothingly as Tony whimpered at the sting the movement caused, the genius expertly covering it with a snarled, "Hate the cold…"

Steve pressed his closed lips to the back of Tony's neck, both offering comfort and testing his temperature, not reassured by the lack of warmth, as he replied, "I know that too. C'mere…", and helped Tony curl tighter in against him, his own broad back to the biting wind, slumped over to provide the best shelter he could to the limpet snuggled to his chest.

The super solider smiled thinly when Tony pressed his chilled nose into the crook of his neck, the genius's voice almost inaudible under the wind, his not warm-enough breath glancing off Steve's skin as he groused, "Stupid winter. St'pd Snow…St-…'tupd ice. Turn it off., Steve. 'm C'ld."

Despite the joking quality to Tony's voice, Steve could hear the underlying pleading, and steadfastly refusing to think about _ice_, _70 years_ or _alone_, he instead focused on _Tony_, as he replied "Shh…I'm just going to get you warmed up. Promise."

Tony's fingers pattered disjointedly against Steve's side as the genius fought against the agonising sting of the cold creeping through his limbs and trying to steal the very breath from his lungs, but his voice was calm and completely trusting as he said, "Hmm, 'kay."

Steve was so thankful for that belief, that complete and utter confidence that Steve could fix this, because if Tony had it, then Steve might be able to hold onto it too.

He had to cover as much of Tony as possible, conceal him from the wind and snow, and all that was available was his own body.

He wrapped his right arm tightly over Tony's left shoulder, curling around and settling on his right hip, hunching over as Tony squirmed closer to his only available heat source.

The extremities were the first to feel frostbite: Tony needed all his fingers in working order, it would all but kill the engineer to lose his passion. Steve ordered, tone firm, "Put your arms-"

Tony tucked them down between their chests, but Steve went further, leaning back slightly to push Tony's hands down to his lap and forced already blue tinged fingertips between the twin furnaces that were his thighs.

It earned him a lascivious wink and a wriggle of the backside perched in his lap, but Steve could see the pain behind the forced promiscuity as chilled fingers started to tingle excruciatingly with warming blood.

Tucking in close again, Steve rubbed small circles into the base of Tony's neck as he soothed the bitten back whimpers, his other hand holding both Tony's in place as he whispered quietly, "That's it… just-"

Tony relaxed against him, dry tongue slipping out to sweep his lips as the pain faded. Steve glanced down at perfectly pink fingertips and murmured, "Good.", pressing a kiss to them before letting go.

Turning to the where Tony's feet were curled against his thigh, Steve grimaced at the bare toes, suddenly remembering holding Tony down while they'd laughed, Steve yanking off the converse sneakers to force a foot massage (read- tickle) on him during their eleven hour flight.

Thinking the problem over and seeing how pretzelled Tony already was, Steve hoped his lovers formidable flexibility could hold out just a little longer. He shifted slightly, curling his own legs slightly to the left and on top of each other, carefully balancing Tony as he said, "Tuck your feet under my leg…"

Tony winced, his feet obviously a user-friendly numb at the moment that would no doubt turn into a fiery agony when they started to heat. Turning his face away slightly, he muttered a disinclined grumble, "…' hate that-"

Steve twisted slightly, his free hand moving to Tony's knee and pressing firmly, as he replied, "I know. But I love you. …quite a lot- enough to make- _shaa!_", he cut himself off with a gasping yelp as Tony's teeth sunk into his shoulder, the genius's body going rigid in Steve's arms as heat engulfed his feet, sending waves of molten agony shooting up his legs.

Steve tightened his grasp as Tony squirmed against him, holding fast. His lips swallowing Tony's keening whimper and occupying his lover as well as possible until the pain fled in place of a warm drowsy heat that throbbed through Tony's limbs and straight up into Steve's heart.

"'s-good" Tony murmured against Steve's chest, curling into his heat source and bathing in the warmth of his little sanctuary, watching as the swirling white lifted and fell before them.

Turning Tony's face towards his, Steve 's gaze wandered over the flushed accents of his lovers cheeks and the bright eyes that were mere centimetres from his own, asking to just be sure, "…Yeah?"

Tony leaned up, his body stretched flush against Steve's with the reach as he sought warm lips. Steve pressed forwards, his arms cradling Tony, holding his weight as they kissed, tender touches morphing into gentle pressure, then into passion personified.

And with the slow _thump, thump, thump _of the quinjets rotor blades become audible in the distance, and the hard rectangle of his GPS enable Stark phone in his back pocket, Steve had to agree, murmuring,"_Yeah. It is._", as he pulled Tony back into the kiss.

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I had a ball, and hope that you enjoyed... If anyone would like to see another attempt (*I may have an idea*) or something similar please reviewt :)

Also - No beta used, and while I did my best, I really appreciate any help with glaring errors to make my stories better.

And as always - Happy Reading ;)


	2. Delectable Dreaming

_So, I've written this entire little piece while omitting every single instance of one specific word. Once you know what word I've not used at all - leave a review._

**Delectable Dreaming**

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**Summary**: _Even asleep, Tony is a floor-show all on his own._

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Something was not _quite_ right.

Something was _missing._

Steve blinked slowly as knowledge of his suddenly 'not-quite-asleep' state filtered into his waking brain.

_Why_ was he awake?

Right. There was something _odd _prickling at his senses_._

Something _missing._

Creeping a hand to his left, it took several meters of emptiness for Steve to realise why he was suddenly awake and feeling that something was _missing,_ rather than still sleeping peacefully like most normal people did at 2am.

Something _was _missing.

Or rather – _someone_ was missing.

Tony was no longer in their bed.

Genius or not, even Tony needed more than a few hours' sleep per week, a fact that Steve had been doing his utmost to drive home.

Evidently, his efforts had met with little success so far.

Disappointment and anger warring with concern, Steve started to sit up, intent on locating his lover, who'd been awake almost 48 hours, and returning him (forcibly, if necessary) to bed.

Thoughts of Tony's disappearing act fled from his mind when a sudden rustling from his left grabbed his full attention, any last vestiges of sleep fleeing, replaced with caution and protectiveness.

Already half out of bed, horrors of kidnapping or assault rushing across his mind, Steve ordered "lights".

A familiar soft glow immediately banished shadows and illuminated corners, ad Steve stilled, relaxing again, a sense of exasperated relief clouding his features as he said, "What are you doing over there? – its 2am, Tony…come back to bed."

Suspicion settled in his gut when Tony didn't answer, didn't even glance his way, but his hunch wasn't confirmed until Tony turned slightly, and Steve noticed how unfocused his brown eyes were.

Tony was still asleep.

Sleep walking.

It wasn't a regular occurrence by any means, but it happened often enough for Steve to be familiar with this unpredictable, bewildering and altogether too adorable side of his lover.

Tony's sleepwalking usually manifesting when his lover was particularly tired or stressed, and was generally a harmless expenditure of pent up energy, …but Steve could never forget – _sweatpants and bare feet juxtaposed before a stunning New York skyline backdrop, 90 stories high and nowhere to go but down_-

Steve could relax though, with Tony in their room and within reach of his eyes and arms.

Seeing as Tony was currently quite occupied ransacking what had been affectionately labelled his, 'God Tony, this is not your workshop!' drawer, Steve leant back, grabbed for his most recent novel, content to read while keeping half an eye on his lovers antics.

Tony's soft exclamation of triumph caught Steve's attention – it was rare for Tony to actually speak while sleepwalking, but occasional vocal sounds were fairly common – looking up, Steve's eyes widened slightly as he took in what looked like a small screwdriver clutched in Tony's left fist.

Now, what on earth was going through his lovers dreaming mind that entailed using a _screwdriver._

_Actually – _considering Tony's passion…

Curious and cautious about what his lover was up to, Steve watched through their open bedroom door as Tony approached their small kitchen and its nine demountable cabinets.

And proceeded to unscrew every silver fixing holding one of them together.

Tony was so proficient at his calling that Steve didn't even have time to consider interrupting before his lover was setting one detached cupboard door down and moving onto its twin next door.

As he watched, Steve realised that it wasn't causing any harm- a mess, quite possibly (_definitely_) – but harm? No.

And more to Steve's desired point? It would keep Tony occupied in their room. No jaunts about Stark Tower delivering shoes and no creating Pop-Tart traps to lure Norse Gods into their home.

A soft smile lingered about his lips as Steve turned most of his attention back to his book, although he did keep a little more of it on Tony, lest he approach something electrical…there were certain engineering limits that Steve didn't think even Tony should cross.

He needn't have worried. After completing his decimation of all 9 kitchen doors, Tony turned his considerable intelligence to dismantling Steve's new sketching platform.

Shaking his head, yet confident that whatever Tony pulled apart he would be able to fix, Steve returned to his story world.

It was a good twenty minutes later that Steve had cause to look up again.

Tony had paused in his unscrewing of a picture frame hung high above his head, almost out of his reach. He was precariously balanced on what was either a large blue and white trash can lid, or Steve's shield, one arm trying to hold his target still while he unscrewed it, his other busy trying to keep his sleep pants from slipping down his hips.

Perfectly designed, and made of sinfully soft black silk, this particular pair of sleep pants were Steve's personal favourite.

Usually they hugged his slim hips in a simply scandalous way, but as Tony's stomach concaved inwards with his above-head stretch, silken elastic had nothing to cling too, and they dipped perilously low.

Sleeping or not, Tony was definitely aware of his pants' downward creep. Not to mention rather perturbed. Using one hand, despite needing both to easily achieve his goal, Tony scowled as his other clenched at slippery silk, clutching his pants against his waist.

Steve grinned, entertained by his completely too endearing lover.

How he was expected to survive loving Tony was beyond Steve; such simple charm found in watching this incredibly, beyond comprehensibly, intelligent man so confounded by something as uncomplicated as a pair of pants….

And as if to disprove Steve's point, Tony showed his innate genius by abruptly solved his issue, black silk puddling around his feet as he stepped out of them.

Problem settled, Tony turned back to his self-appointed task, reaching up again, screwdriver in hand.

Steve's interest in his book suddenly waned.

Blue eyes were inexorably drawn to flat plains and taut valleys of creamy skin and leanly corded muscles.

Steve's mouth parted slightly as that perfectly rounded ass tightened with Tony's added stretch. Obviously a particularly tight bolt, Tony leant back slightly, setting his feet at shoulder width and pressing.

Twisting slightly, his finely muscled back arching into a gorgeous curve of shadows half lit by warm golden light, Tony flexed from shoulder to thigh, relaxing slightly as his nemesis finally gave and started to turn.

Steve licked his lips, book abandoned, unashamedly rearranging himself for comfort against his suddenly tight cotton sweats, darkening eyes drinking in what was being so flawlessly displayed.

Tony set his vanquished photo frame down, before turning and drifting further away, his unseeing gaze settling on their new coffee table. (Thor had visited and their first had met with an untimely demise).

Kneeling with his back to Steve, Tony began searching for screws and bolts to assault, his nimble hands making short work of each one as he located them. Steve's perfect view was never hindered, only seeming to get better with each passing second and every subsequent movement.

Tony twisted to his right, leaning forward to reach an ungainly screw, and Steve was gifted a smorgasbord of hard muscle and lean flesh, his eyes mapping a path that he would remind his tongue about later.

Several minutes later a soft thud sounded as Tony dropped his weapon of choice, and while Steve was still grieving over his loss of that gently arched back, his lover dropped to all fours, his torso a softly angled slope and ass a gloriously presented target for Steve's reverent worship.

Steve's breath caught and he all but whimpered as Tony's body suddenly fell into a much more tightly angled decent. His thighs separated as his centre of gravity lowered and revealed just a hint of what secrets lay between darkly curved cheeks.

Steve's gaze greedily riveted on his lovers gorgeous body, not caring, but half certain that he was being had, and that Tony was more alert than he was alluding to….

Tony suddenly managed to retrieve his lost screwdriver and rolled effortlessly to his feet, and Steve was greeted with guileless, if unfocused brown eyes as his lover moved back towards their bedroom and Steve himself.

Definitely still sleepwalking, his gait graceful as ever, yet infinity less tightly wound, Steve watched with hooded eyes as Tony deftly dismantled each item on their bedside tables.

A quick glance at his watch told Steve that he'd indulged Tony's night time wanderings for over an hour, which was longer than any previous occasion, by far.

And so when Tony decided to apprehend their bed next, with his indulging lover still in it, Steve decided that was definitely enough, however much he might be enjoying Tony's floorshow.

Steve didn't often have to wake Tony, his lover usually coming out of it or slipping back into proper sleep by himself, but he knew what to do in any case.

With a gently spoken, "Uh, no – give me that." Steve scooted closer to be able to reach Tony more easily, and stretching out a large hand, he extracted his lover's weapon of mass chaos and dropped it, before framing Tony's face between his hands and speaking quietly, his thumbs rubbing soothing arcs beneath glassy brown orbs.

"Hey. Wake up, love…Tony? – Ton-", Whether by his voice, touch or presence, Tony stilled beneath his hands, blinking slowly and Steve smiled as his brown eyes cleared and brightened, full consciousness returning.

Tony stared for an instant, his vision blinkered by Steve's hands, and then – "Hi?"

Returning Steve's smile, Tony listening as Steve explained, "You've been sleep walking…"

Tony flushed just slightly, his eyes widening as he replied, "Oh God…please tell me that all our shoes are still messing up my foyer and I'm not going to have to spend hours and hours later putting away 378 boxes of pop tarts again…

Steve choked a laugh as he pressed a kiss to Tony's lips, answering, "Don't worry – You didn't even leave our rooms…"

Eyes dipping closed as he leaned further into Steve's strength, seeking more contact where molten heat was assaulting his lips and jaw, his hands carding into golden hair, Tony sighed in relief, saying, "Thank god, it's one thing to cause myself more work while aw- _What?_ "

Steve couldn't cut off his sniggering laughter, but he did drag Tony into his lap, pressing more heated kisses down one bare shoulder.

"What? What!" Tony squirmed beneath his twitching lips and Steve grinned mercilessly as he finally pointed out what Tony had been too preoccupied by his gorgeous lover to notice.

Their room, spreading out into their surrounding apartment, was an absolute disaster.

Doors had been completely removed from cupboards and handles from doors. Chairs were in pieces beneath their dissembled dining room table. Picture frames were in three of four fragments and tiny silver screws where dotted frequently across their dark plush carpet.

Looking around in total shock at how much damage he'd managed to do in such a short amount of time, Tony groaned, saying, "You just sat and watched as I pulled everything apart – _what sort of lover are you?"_

Grinning, Steve flipped them, settling his lover beneath him, pressing a thigh down between Tony's, bending down to slip under reaching arms, he answered, "Well – I guess I'm whatever sort gets to watch you put it all back together later."

And rocking against Tony's gorgeous body, spread-out in a luscious sprawl beneath him, a mischievous cock of his hips accompanying his glinting eyes, Steve added "Naked."

* * *

Fin.

So - this was actually really tough. I kept accidentally using that evil word and then trying to fix it was a bit of a nightmare.  
Anyway - hope you enjoyed, because I know I did :)

I know my wording in this one is a bit stilted, but any actual mistakes you wanna throw my way - I'm always appreciative.

Happy Reading :)


	3. Hope

Challenge 3 - and the last for now. I'm not telling what this challenge actually entailed...so, please have a guess!

**HOPE**

* * *

Summary: They sit in the dark, with their grief, anger and loss. And wait. And hope.

* * *

Cold light of the still early dawn crept under the half drawn blind and swept over the floor, the room dimly lit with muted peals of bleak grey.

It was quiet.

The lack of sound was a heavy, dense ache that clung to the mood; black grief, lack of hope and so much anger.

Clint, grave and sober on the other side of the room, his usual perch left for a spot at the table. He sat with his back to the world, sure that this was not the end.

To his left was Bruce.

Bruce, whose eyes had been an even blend of green and brown for days. His mug of tea held close to his chest – yet, not_ his_ mug – hints of red and gold half seen in the space to the left of his thumb.

Tasha, the same as usual, yet not…her icy cold mask lost to worry and fear.

Thor was quiet. Real quiet, not his 'soft boom', but a true loss of voice that was so not like the god. It was clear at first sight... he felt the fear too.

The dark mood of those four did not come close to the whole story.

The daily paper was held in a tight fist, and he was lost in his own world, set back a ways from the table, wary of his team and the pull of their grief, lest it add to his own and break him.

The sag of his tired eyes over heavy black bags told of worry that did not allow him to sleep.

The beard of five days, dark on his jaw and the stain on his three day old shirt told of grief that did not allow him to care.

The wet shine in his blue eyes told of love that did not ever allow him to give in.

Steve set the paper on the table, Tony's soft grin aimed at him from the front page.

_The bold black title at the top read, "Have you seen me?"_

* * *

FIN.

Okay - this was possibly the hardest of the three challenges - and still great fun.

If you think you've worked out what makes it special please leave a comment - you might win yourself a Christmas ficlet!

ALSO - The actual story content is a teaser for a much longer story I'm working on. Full length Stony, with plot and everything, so let me know if you are intrigued.


	4. Alert Chapter

This is part of a series called 'Insomniac Dreaming'...parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight AND NOW NINE! (Put your Emotions to Bed -_10/01/14_)series are now complete and uploaded -

The Links are on my profile page of course! (Order of stories is in the summaries).

As always - I love to hear what you're thinking - so drop me a PM or review if you like.

Happy reading all!

:)


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